Good on You
by The Fifth Dimension
Summary: Becky felt silly worrying about a new hairstyle, of all things, but maybe a small compliment would convince her that it did look good on her after all.


**Author's Note: A shorter story, because Becky's hair is rad.**

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 _ **Good on You**_

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Sitting impatiently backstage, Becky nervously thumbed a lock of her own hair, nearly afraid to touch it as if it were truly set aflame by the sun. Her entire journey through Smackdown Live felt like it was destined to lead up to this moment - Wrestlemania. She normally didn't let the butterflies set up camp in her stomach, but as soon as she saw the glitz and glamour of the 'big stage' - and heard, and practically felt it through every vein in her body - it was a challenge to hold it completely together.

Despite being in possibly the biggest match of her entire career, Becky was more worried about her appearance. It felt so unbelievably vain and petty to care about, in light of what she was supposed to be focused on, but she wanted to try something new, and she wanted it to work. After all, this event was practically made for trying out these outlandish ideas. She was sure that the various other superstars would be sporting extravagant wardrobes, or marching down the ramp flanked by robot dinosaurs that specialized specifically in choreographed musical numbers, coded into their robo-reptilian programming.

She, well, she had her hair.

A new hairstyle certainly wasn't going to hold a candle to anyone else's Wrestlemania 'thing' - she could only imagine the kind of entrance that Triple H was going to make - but maybe it would be different enough to get people talking. She wondered if anyone was going to like it at all, especially since even she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Her hair, at least in her own mind, was her most defining feature, the bright orange strands serving to accentuate her fiery personality. It was certainly a risk trying this out, but she _was_ a self-proclaimed risk taker, if only because she needed a witty rhyme for 'rule breaker' in her Twitter description.

So caught up in her musings, Becky barely paid heed to the woman that entered the room, championship draped across her left shoulder. That is, until said ball of pure attitude was standing in her line of sight. She averted her gaze to avoid confrontation, but confrontation seemed to be unavoidable with the petite woman. "What's that on your head?" Alexa asked, a loud scoff escaping her.

Of course, Becky thought. Of course she would pick at the one thing Becky was actually worried about, the insidious little cretin that she was. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head to let Alexa know she wasn't playing this game. That did little to stop the blonde from strolling up to Becky's side, plopping down in the seat next to her. "Seriously. I am about two steps from punching you right in the face. So, unless you want to walk out there with a black eye before the match even starts, I suggest you back off." Becky doubted that Alexa would want to get physical before their big match. Hopefully a blatant threat sent the message that today was not the day for this.

Alexa went wide-eyed, seemingly in disbelief. "Rude," she stated, pointing a lone digit in front of the other woman's face. Becky wanted nothing more than to take her entire arm and beat her over the head with it, but being fired right before her Wrestlemania match didn't sound that appealing. Despite her violent fantasies, it didn't escape her notice Alexa was exhaling deeply. "It looks good."

Becky did a double take, frantically searching her body. Had Alexa put something on her? She was faster than she looked! "What looks good? I swear, if you did something…!"

"Your hair, Sherlock."

"My hair?"

Alexa's eyebrows furrowed, her frustration growing. "Ugh, I hate you." She pinched the bridge of her nose, quietly mumbling to herself as Becky stared in confusion. "Your hair. I like it. It looks good on you."

Well, that was definitely not what Becky was expecting. Out of all the possible candidates to give her a pre-match compliment, the woman that spent the better half of a year physically and verbally assaulting her was the last person on the list. Though, she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't flattered, even if it came from Ms. Five Feet of Aggravating. "Um, thanks? I think." Mimicking her earlier mannerisms, Alexa absentmindedly played with a lock of her own blonde hair. "Was that all that you wanted to say?"

Suddenly, Alexa let out an ear-piercing groan, standing up with a huff. "Forget it! This is the last time I try to compliment you! I-I mean, anyone. Whatever!" She walked off hurriedly, championship nearly slipping from her shoulder, but not before Becky was able to catch the subtle signs of embarrassment adorning her cheeks.

Becky replayed the last three minutes in her head, not believing that they actually just happened. Had she really only walked in here to tell her that? Had she seen her walk into the arena and make that decision? Maybe there was more to Alexa than she originally thought, underneath her childlike tantrums and relentless insults, anyway. Still, she found herself smiling fondly at Alexa's awkward attempt at a compliment, reminding herself to return the favor. Becky glanced at her hair again, now much more confident.

Maybe it did look good on her.

 _ **End**_


End file.
